The memory became clear, Shermans repeatedly emphasized.

"Yes, that's the name, Cantarella."

"What is that?"

As Galahad inquired, he mentally noted this unfamiliar term.

"A poison targeting demon hunters, created by a Cardinal, a terrifying figure comparable to Cardinal Medici, although his ending was far worse than Cardinal Medici's."

With this term came the memory of that era, and Shermans couldn't help but sigh as he spoke.

"He was called Caesar Borgia, the infamous Poison Duke. Initially, he used this poison to kill all his political enemies, capturing lands and cities along with his Pope father. But tyranny could not sustain long rule; they began with poison and ended with poison."

Shermans reflected on that brief glory, which was before the Golden Era.

"They were poisoned to death, ending their rule. Subsequently, Cardinal Medici took the stage, inheriting control over Florence. But at that time, this poison was retained. People noticed its uniqueness, and after being processed by an Alchemist, it became a poison used against demon hunters."

He looked at Galahad's shocked face and smiled gently.

"That's how it is. In fact, weapons against demons are also weapons against demon hunters, be it Holy Silver or Cantarella."

"From the beginning, you never trusted demon hunters?"

"They are a group of dangerous monsters, and monsters need firm shackles."

The amiable Shermans revealed his cruelty at this moment, his face calm as if all that had nothing to do with him.

"Moreover, aren't you the same? Though I may be an incompetent Cardinal, I have faced demons. I am all too aware of the cost of confronting such monsters."

Galahad fell silent. If the poison called Cantarella was the end of demon hunters, then the Black Mountain Hospital was their conclusion. Though this information had not been disclosed, Galahad knew that the mysterious Lancelot was sent to Black Mountain Hospital due to erosion. He knew nothing of his life or death.

Strange thoughts surged, and Galahad remembered the change of code names. Before Galahad had the code name "Galahad," it belonged to someone else who died, and Galahad became his successor. Perhaps one day, a stranger would appear before him, bearing the name Lancelot.

"This is the cost. When you aim to accomplish something, you must always pay something, right, whether good or bad."

Shermans continued with his amiable smile, yet Galahad began to understand this exile a little more. He was a Cardinal, one of the few who truly wielded power within the Evangelical Church. But what kind of pain would make a person despise power, only wanting to serve God until death?

"Alright, Mr. Galahad, let's not discuss these useless things. These are not for you and me to decide; we are only cogs in the machine. Let's talk about the Revelation. I've said enough; now it's your turn."

Galahad didn't reply immediately, but remained silent for a while. Though he hadn't received much information, each piece was enough to shake the situation. Even he felt a bit exhausted looking at Shermans' calm expression. No one knew what else was in this old man's mind.

"Concerning the Revelation..."

"Right, I remember it was stolen by Dean Lawrence. Are you tracking Lawrence's whereabouts?" Mentioning this, Shermans clearly became more anxious.

"You seem unaware of that..."

"What?"

"Lawrence is already dead. He died before the Divine Birthday. We executed him in the north, utterly dead."

"Lawrence is dead?"

For the first time, Shermans' calmness wavered, and this elderly Cardinal shouted as though he had seen a ghost.

But soon he realized his faux pas, swallowed, and suddenly felt much more at ease.

"That bastard is actually dead..."

In a way, Lawrence could be seen as the culprit of everything. If he hadn't betrayed on the Night of the Holy Arrival, everything would've taken a different direction.

But quickly Shermans' expression changed. He asked seriously.

"Can you be sure?"

"Yes."

"His body was destroyed completely before your eyes?" Shermans stressed again.

Galahad wasn't present at the scene, but that eerie Black Angel was currently housed within the depths of the Perpetual Motion Pump. Those site reports wouldn't deceive him. Lawrence was dead; even if any flesh remained, it was on that Armor of Original Sin.

He nodded again, affirming.

"I'm sure."

Shermans stared intently at Galahad, and after an unknown period, he exhaled deeply as though releasing all burdens.

"Though we couldn't kill that new Pope, Lawrence's death is good; really good," Shermans said while shaking his head, smiling wryly, "I'm starting to believe in things like... Good will be rewarded with good; evil with evil."

"What will you get?" Galahad asked.

Shermans furrowed his brow, saying somewhat helplessly, "Anyway, it certainly won't be a good ending."

"Then why would you... suspect he wouldn't die?"

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